


A Buck Short and a Nickle Shy

by elleavantemm



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleavantemm/pseuds/elleavantemm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ordinary expenses leave Trowa Barton a bit short at Christmas. What do you buy a man who has everything with only $12.57?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Buck Short and a Nickle Shy

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the prompt "After rent, a week’s worth of groceries, new socks (without holes), and some dish soap, Trowa was left with $12.57 to his name. $12.57 with which to buy the multi-billionaire Quatre Winner, CEO of Winner Enterprises Incorporated, a fun yet thoughtful Christmas gift. On second thought, maybe he hadn’t really needed socks without holes" for the winter round of the livejournal Advent Challenge.

_$12.57._

The number on the calculator seemed to laugh at Trowa every time it appeared on the small screen. At least the number never got _smaller_ , thank goodness. Across the scarred kitchen table were crumpled receipts haphazardly flattened out. Trowa leaned heavily on his arm, elbow resting on the table. Just five days before Christmas, and still without a gift for Quatre, and all he had left was $12.57.

Fuck.

He thought back on his most recent purchases: rent (unavoidable); groceries (necessary); dish soap (well...); new socks. Did he really _need_ socks without holes in them? He sighed, resigned. What difference would it make? Returned socks and dish soap might only give him a few extra dollars.

His phone rang, buzzing to life at his elbow, Quatre’s number flashing on the screen. Making a valiant attempt to sound cheerful he answered. “Hey, Quatre.”

+++

Trowa opened the box - small, white, and triangular, tied with a simple green ribbon - with trembling fingers. Inside, resting atop a emerald green silk handkerchief was a key.

“It’s... a key.” Quatre was grinning, leaning forward in his seat eagerly. “It’s a key,” Trowa repeated as realization sunk in.

“I hate you living so far away,” Quatre said. “I want you to move in with me.”

Trowa was speechless. He’d spent the last few days worrying about his paltry $12.57, and now he was holding a key to Quatre’s home. Anything he might have purchased, regardless of its expense, would have paled in comparison to this. It was an invitation into Quatre’s home; an invitation for a permanent place in Quatre’s life.

“Don’t feel you have to answer now,” Quatre said, worry creeping into his voice at Trowa’s extended silence.

Trowa looked up. “No... I- it’s perfect. Yes. Yes, of course.” He thought about his apartment back on L3 with the busted radiator, the shower head that he had to fold himself in half to get under and only ever seemed to put out ice cold water. “Here,” he said, pulling his own small box out from underneath the tree. “It’s not much.”

Quatre was grinning. “I don’t mind. Your saying yes was exactly what I wanted for Christmas. Everything else is just icing on the cake.”


End file.
